Talking Too Much
by Jaffa Bakers
Summary: Drax has just too many questions about the show that they're watching for Rocket to bear. Fluff oneshot sequel to Therapy


"So the large man. He is the champion and that is why he wears the belt?"

It was a typical Saturday night aboard the ship, the lazy atmosphere leaving everyone aboard feeling lethargic. In fact, Quill and Gamora were long since asleep having retired early for some work thing they purported to have together. Rocket didn't even need his keen nose to know that there was something more besides just the pair of them wanting to work together for safety reasons but he didn't push the issue.

After all, he didn't want **them** to be pushing into his business either he'd mentally decided. He looked over at the large man sitting on the couch next to him and felt heat crawling along his features. To be fair, Drax could've easily put the men on screen to shame just by nature of his existence. Where they were big, hulking monstrosities of muscle-bound machismo, Drax was genuinely... manly. It was hard to describe him as anything but the very picture of manhood.

"He does nothing but posture and scream into the microphone and begs for challenge. Yet it is shown that he has lost many of his matches as well. Who has organized this tournament in such a manner?" And yet, he was sometimes dumb as a Halian blood worms. This was incredibly obvious whenever the pair watched television.

"It's not a tournament, dammit. It's ... it's a series of competitions. The man with the best win/loss record is usually the champion or at the least gets the championship matches." He put a piece of cinnamon candied popcorn into his mouth, chewing on it for a moment. "But ya shee, this guy got really lucky. He won an over the top rope royale, got the title match and" Swallow. "Got the belt. But he's still just another d'ast idiot among a larger pool of fools."

"I see. They profess to rules and regulations but this man has just hit this other man with the chair. Security is lax at these proceedings, I must admit. Perhaps we should hire on as bodyguards." Drax's focus was fixed on the show, face a mask of confusion as he did his level best to understand the showmanship of the program.

"It's a stunt. Guy gets hit with a chair, then they have a match. It's called buildin' heat." He passed the bucket of popcorn over, but the muscled man simply refused it with a shake of his head. Rocket waited a moment before shrugging and taking the popcorn bucket back. "Th' idea is that the guy gets so mad that he makes a mistake in his next match and possibly loses. Or he doesn't and that might be the end of the feud."

"Feuds, contests of strength, moments of glory. It is a good warrior's competition but they lack true fortitude. Look at this man here." He pointed at one of the many spandex wearing men currently on screen. "He holds this other man by the neck, yet the other does little to remove himself from the position. If this were a true battle, his neck would be broken."

"Just watch." Rocket said, holding up a hand for Drax to be quiet. He watched as the man on the bottom powered up out of the hold, grabbing behind his opponent's knees and lifting. Even Drax was impressed for a moment when the larger man came crashing down to the ring with a visible bounce off the canvas. "See? This guy's a fan favorite cause he beats th' odds. He's a lot stronger than he looks."

"He is certainly strong, but I am certain that I could beat him. His 'moves' are simple to counter for a better-trained fighter than he. Look at how much he telegraphs his move! It is ridiculous that his opponent doesn't get out of the way in time!"

"That's it right there, hon." Rocket felt weird using the pet name, but he quickly shook himself out of it. It was going to take a long time to get into that particular comfort zone. "It's ridiculous. A show, a spectacle for people t' watch." He grinned a bit, waiting for the realization to dawn on Drax.

"It is not a real contest, is it? It is simply something for people to watch, like those movies that Quill is always showing us?" The man grinned before he let out a loud and throaty laugh. "It is most humorous and I enjoy it! Now I know for sure that I could break these men like twigs."

Rocket shook his head with a laugh bubbling out of his throat, finishing off the last of the popcorn as he tried to control his convulsions. He almost felt like someone taking candy away from a toddler, the man had looked disappointed for a moment as he'd pieced it together. He grumbled a bit as he felt around in the bottom for more kernels, only being met with the sound of his claws scraping against waxed cardboard.

"But this man, he says that he was beaten outside of the arena before the show had even started. What does that me-" Whatever thought Drax had on his mind was silenced with a pair of thin dark lips pressing against his own. He was startled for a moment before he let his eyes face down to his comrade, his partner.

Rocket's eyes were closed for the moment, his hands resting easy on Drax's shoulders for right now. Drax slowly let himself start returning the favor in kind, hands coming to Rocket's sides and holding him gently.

"Just... just shut up an' watch the show." Rocket said as the kiss broke, his eyes brimming with affection but there was still that annoyed tone. "Y' d'ast idiot."

"Hmf." Drax huffed, like a spoiled toddler denied his favorite treat. But he grinned all the same and moved his lips in again, but instead of Rocket's mouth this time they found the mammal's neck. There was a light whimper of need and that was all it took.

They didn't watch much more of the show that night.


End file.
